


Mountain Air Will Cure Plenty of Ailments

by TheDaysOfGold



Category: Psycho-Pass
Genre: Friendship, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:21:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25014625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDaysOfGold/pseuds/TheDaysOfGold
Summary: Ginoza and Akane have a difficult working relationship, and with Kogami missing and the Makashima Case grinding to a halt, it's clear that they need to clear the air. And though Ginoza takes the initiative, it's Akane's astute observations of the situation between them that results in a conversation long overdue, and promises to build a better Division One, ready for the toughest case of their careers.Basically, just a scene I thought of between Akane and Ginoza concerning their working relationship. There weren't really many conversations between them outside of CID stuff, but I think there would be more of that, if the show had more time. Alas, here we are.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 11





	Mountain Air Will Cure Plenty of Ailments

He’s never been one to listen in on another’s conversation, but he finds himself lingering at the door of Division One’s lower level, in the lab where Shion and Akane take a moment to let down the walls and talk through aching hearts.

He can’t blame them. After all, with Kogami going rogue and Makashima trailing them all along like rats in a maze, the entire team is under strain, and Ginoza has never had the skills to ease that. And, perhaps, Akane can’t find any solace in the men on her crew. Perhaps, only down here, in the shadows and the computers and the woman with red lips, half a mile of cleavage and a heart as big as a mother’s, she has an opportunity to open up and soothe her pain before the war really begins.

To make it all worse, standing at a dangerous crossroads between guilt and curiosity, Ginoza lingers at the doorway to listen in. Because he can’t help it.

“It’s been a busy week,” Shion opens. “Are you alright, Akane?”

“I guess so,” she answers, but Ginoza can hear the front she’s still putting up. “Guess I really haven’t opened up about any of this.”

Shion doesn’t answer, because she knows that Akane isn’t speaking of the case. And, where words could try to tear down her resolve, Shion lets the hush do the work and watches as the Second Inspector finally throws in the towel and offers up some honesty.

“If Kogami becomes a real killer instead of a latent criminal, well, I can’t let that happen.”

Shion stubs out her cigarette, and the look is all over her face. _Is that because you’ve fallen in love with him, or with someone you thought he was? Someone who’s fading away?_ “Look Akane, you shouldn’t be trying to shoulder all of this on your own,” she says instead, because her thoughts seem a little too direct for this early in the conversation. “You don’t have to bear full responsibility on yourself. You can lean on others.”

And, from the doorway, Ginoza can feel the words rip right through him, as if he were standing in the room and Shion had addressed him with a sharpened knife.

“I’ll be alright,” Akane answers, because she always does. Because she always _is_. That’s what she’s always done, ever since she was a little girl; soldiered on. “If you're worried about my Psycho Pass, you can check. It’s still pale turquoise.”

She catches Shion’s eye, and it’s clear that the other woman isn’t happy with the redirection of the conversation. Not happy with the wall that Akane is still hiding behind. So, Akane removes the first brick, because if there’s anyone she can truly trust on the team, it’d probably be Shion. Certainly not Kogami or Ginoza, and certainly not if she’d known his lingering at the door.

“Why doesn’t this affect me, Shion? Am I that cold-hearted? What’s a Psycho Pass, and what’s a person’s heart?”

Shion stands, crossing the space and wrapping her arms around the tiny frame of the otherwise fierce Inspector. She holds her, offering the respect of silence because there are no words to console a broken heart before it even had a chance to fall in love. Because there is nothing in their digitally controlled world that can give Akane the answers she seeks. She’d forgive the Sibil System for its self-proclaimed godly omnipotence, only, that it is not godly omnipotent, and it does not have all of the answers.

No matter the power of the System, it cannot tell you who you will fall for, and what they are willing to resort to in pursuit of their dreams, or in fear of their nightmares. And Kogami was a man with a thousand nightmares, all wrapped in the white silhouette of Shogo Makashima.

But this doesn’t really mean anything to Ginoza, hands trembling at the door of the lab, not knowing why he was still standing there, and yet, knowing very, very clearly why he was still standing there.

It’s that realisation that frustrates him the most. _Either walk in or walk away. Stop hesitating like this and make a decision for once!_

It’s not the fear of being caught that finally moves his feet and sends him into the room, rather, the need to act. All his life, he’s sat on the fence, done his homework, abided by the Sibil System’s rules. Done the right thing. Always compliant. Always backing away. Always doing as told.

And so, with a strong stride into the lab, knowing that those very methods have led to his downfall, he decides there will be compliance no more.

“Inspector Tsunemori,” he orders, hands in his pockets to hide his unsteady nerve. It’s a flat tone, well-practiced and unreadable, that draws no want of questioning. “We need to speak.”

“Can’t you see we’re busy?” Shion answers, coming to battle with her red-painted fingernails sharpened. She lets Akane out of her arms, but stands in front of the girl, hiding tear-stained cheeks to conserve the Second Inspector’s pride.

It takes every inch of Ginoza’s strength not to physically flinch at the woman’s hostility. They’d clashed over plenty of their things during their service to Division One; from minor things like her ramen noodles left in the kitchenette sink, to the sex with Kunizuka in the lab at inappropriate hours of the day. And despite all the battles waged, no one, not even the First Inspector, dared to cross Shion’s wrath. There was a reason she could get away with so much.

But he holds firm, for the first time. “We need to talk.”

“You need to leave,” Shion challenges. And it’s like wolves staring each other down, laced over by the cold light of the computer screens in the basement lab.

“Don’t fight, you guys,” Akane cuts in quietly, rubbing away the last of her tears and hoping that her eyes aren’t too red. She steps around Shion, onto the proverbial battleground, and offers thanks to the woman who stood up for her. There were so few who did. “We should speak downstairs, Mr Ginoza. There won’t be anyone listening in the downstairs carpark.”

And, with that, she steps from the room and makes her way to the lift without waiting for him. Ginoza hasn’t moved, eyes still on Shion, half-ready for those red claws to tear him apart where he stands.

“You used to be a good leader of Division One,” she notes, and though it seems off-topic, Ginoza knows that it really isn’t. “Though, that was back when Kogami was at your side.”

Ginoza glances away in irritation. “I’m well aware that you see me as substandard to Kogami.”

“Not substandard,” she corrects, but the words aren’t kind. Rather, they cut through him like acid. “You're just the wrong personality in the wrong position, Gino. We all knew that when you took over Division One, but we were going to give you the chance. And you did alright for a while, dealing with Kogami and Masaoka in such a clean way, day-in-day-out, but we all knew that there was a case that would disturb the peace, that would throw you out of balance. One last case that would confront your need for control and protocol, and it seems Makashima’s chaotic, exploitative flaunting of the system will do just that.” She pauses, looking to the door where Akane had previously disappeared. “But, perhaps Division One will return to equilibrium soon enough,”

And with a return to the desk and the rhythmic tapping of fingertips on the keyboard, Ginoza knows that he’s been dismissed. He doesn’t really like Shion’s words, not because of the tone she used but because of the truth in the accusations.

But they aren’t really a surprise. He’s known for plenty of time that he’s a poor fit for the role of First Inspector. Chief Kasse knows it, and gives him chance after chance to prove otherwise. Kogami knows it, but he never says anything.

 _Hell, even the Sibyl System knows it, I’d wager, and is just watching and waiting for my eventual downfall._ _But I can’t give in, not until this case is solved._

He leaves the room, venturing down, but it seems that Akane doesn’t want to sit in the carpark basement and talk nostalgia or petty arguments. She’s in one of the cars, and the engine is running, waiting for him to take up residence in the passenger’s seat. He does so without argument, because this conversation ought to be a two-way street, and after dragging her out, it’s probably his turn to shut up and let her embark on whatever it is they need to talk about.

Akane gives the car a route, and lets it drive out of the underground park, breeching the light after a few floors of climbing. Though it’s late autumn, the winter promises to be a cold one, and yet, the skies are clear and the midday hour offers a rare show of sun. Soon, the car is warm, but it doesn’t make anything comfortable, because Ginoza still doesn’t know when to start the conversation.

Perhaps realising this, as she astutely observes everyone on their crew, Akane offers the mercy of starting it for him. “What did you want to speak about, Mr Ginoza?”

“Drop it,” he answers, and the casual tone makes her head turn. It’s so opposite to the clinical conversation she’d opened with, and she’s never heard him address an officer so casually, absent of the formality needed for the upper echelons of the CID.

And she’s wary. Wary, because she doesn’t know what has brought out the unmasked version of Ginoza.

“I don’t know what we need to talk about,” he continues, because I'm not very good at people. “But even I can see that we need to talk about something.”

“About Kogami.”

“Well, no,” he answers, and looks to the window. The sunshine is bright, but the central-city area offers the same view as always. Grey buildings painted in neon lights, and charming gardens every three blocks. It’s all disgustingly perfect. He looks this way not for the view, rather, because he doesn’t want to see Akane at her weakest, and he doesn’t want her to see him at his.

“Kogami is the problem at the centre of the Makashima Case right now, but he’s not the problem of our professional relationship thus far.”

“Then what is?” She asks, and it’s prompting him to do the hard work, now that she’s opened the conversation. Two-way street, after all.

He takes in a breath, and lets it out like a sigh. “If I knew that, Akane, I wouldn’t have let things get this bad.”

Akane isn’t sure that she agrees, but seeing the walls torn down entirely, signified in the rare use of her first name, she offers him the benefit of the doubt. Still, she’s not willing to hand over surrender without a little more perspective on his part.

“Do you know where I'm taking you?” She asks instead.

Ginoza can see the change of conversation for what it really is, acknowledgement that neither of them really wants to get to the heart of their ugly problem quite yet, so he complies. These sorts of confrontations have their own sort of pace, anyway.

Seeking the answer to her question, he looks out of the window, and then to the roads she’s selected on the navigator, but they’re heading north, away from the docklands and the centre of the city, out into the mountain region north of the urban district.

“I don’t know this part of the city,” is his answer, but has a sneaking suspicion that she’ll take him further than the city fringes.

“Good,” she says, looking back to the road. “We can talk a little more when we get there.”

They take mountain roads once they’ve left the city. With the constant attention demanded by the CID, Ginoza has never really travelled this far away from the urban square. He realises his relationship to the Ministry of Welfare is akin to the relationship of a mother to her two-year old; the Ministry might be as dependent on him as a child on its mother, demanding of time and resources and energy, but the arrangement certainly leaves him drained and seeking nothing more than a peaceful sleep each night. And, even then, that too is rare.

But Akane is different. He’s known this ever since she ran to him through the rain on their first case at the abolition block. He’s known that ever since he threw her a CID Inspector’s jacket, because she’d clearly forgotten her own, just like Kogami always used to. He’s known that ever since she shot an Enforcer on her first mission, not the target with an increased Crime Coefficient. Though, at the time, the target’s Coefficient had indeed been lower than Kogami’s, so on paper, she’d been correct.

And he wonders if that’s the heart of their issue; the fact that her principles work on paper, but that her youth and naivety serve as evidence that such thinking simply does not translate into reality. In their job, upholding the system is the ultimate goal, the root objective in everything they do. And yet, time after time, Akane seems to prove that there are alternatives to this line of thinking. Ginoza knows that her set of ideals draws in the critical eye of Sibyl, and yet, the omniscient god of circuit boards and secrets has never rained punishment down on Akane for her beliefs. Not once. Not ever.

And the frightening bit; it makes him wonder if his own philosophy had been incorrect the entire time.

“It’s a thought that shakes the very foundations of what I’ve always believed in,” he says out loud, when they're deep into the countryside and Akane has long since taken the wheel because the car is not programmed for such distant roads.

She glances aside to him, because she hadn’t asked for conversation for the better part of half an hour, and the sentence is clearly the conclusion to some internal monologue that she was not privy too.

Ginoza expects her to ask for clarification, to ask what he’d meant by the statement, but she takes a different tac. “Sometimes you need your foundations to be shaken, in order to see what is still standing at the end of it.” She says, humouring him in the ideological conversation. “Like when the riots were going to take over the city, and people were afraid that their Crime Coefficients would go up, or that the MWPSB were powerless to stop the violence. That night, many people would have had their fundamental beliefs shaken, but in the end, the MWPSB did succeed, and we did supress the riots, and we put Sibyl back online and rendered those helmets useless. So, now we can see what still stands.”

Ginoza isn’t sure that it’s worth the hassle, but he doesn’t speak. Mortal men are not permitted to speak on the digital god that governs their city.

Akane flicks the indicator and brings the car to a slow at the side of the road. Trees on all sides, Ginoza looks about, because he isn’t sure that they’ve actually arrived anywhere at all.

But Akane seems content, turning off the engine and drawing up the screen on her watch. Ginoza looks at it, then to her, the question on his face, but she just points to the screen and explains. “I wanted to come somewhere completely out of range,” she says to him, showing the lack of reception and inability to connect to the internet or the Sibyl System. “It’s not obvious to everyone, Mr Ginoza, but I can see that you're always watching your words. It’s not just because of Mr Kogami, or Mr Masaoka, because you do it even when no one else is around. You watch your words so carefully, because you're afraid of the System listening in. It’s alright. That’s why I brought us here,” she says, opening the door and stepping out.

Ginoza, shaking a little from the precision cut that Akane has just made right through him, figures that this is the invitation to follow. When he steps out, she rounds the car and steps to the edge of the gravel aside the road, standing before the barrier and looking out at the view.

Ginoza hadn’t noticed it before she’d pulled up, but now, standing at the edge of the forest, as tall and magnificent as their city and its skyscrapers, all this way up in the mountains, he feels like he’s standing at the top of the world.

There’s a strange sense of peace, be that from the tranquillity of the trees, or the silence, the silence of a forest in complete stillness, a silence borne not of the death of a crime scene, where the blood is still and the victim no longer screams, rather, a silence born of everything sitting in perfect equilibrium. Or, perhaps, this silence is something less spiritual, and is just the ceased buzzing of his watch, now that there’s no connectivity and no messages are coming in. Whatever it is, Ginoza isn’t willing to poke at the gentle bubble lest it burst and the chaos return.

“My mother used to take me out here when I was a little girl,” Akane tells him, her eyes on the view. They're clear now, no longer red and puffy from crying, and she seems to stand a little straighter. It makes Ginoza quite aware that, while he can oftentimes drag her mood down, she is completely capable of bringing it back up, given enough time and a little breathing room. And, in addition to that, he realises that all he does is drag her down, never bringing her back up.

“When I was little, I used to be afraid of the city,” she continues. “I didn’t like all the noise, or all the people, but my parents worked blue collar jobs and needed to stay in the city to make ends meet. The Sibyl System was brought in as they were making their careers, and found job aptitudes that left them with hard work, long hours, and minimal pay. My mother would work ten-hour shifts, commute an hour to get home, and then have to cook and clean. Same with my father, but he’d work six days a week most weeks.”

“You’ve done very well to find yourself in the valued position of an Inspector then,” Ginoza answers, because he’s not really sure what else to say.

“I guess so,” Akane shrugs, unwilling to simply swallow his unpalatable coldness. But she knows it does not come from a malicious place, just a misguided one. That was the distinction she needed to find before she could properly understand her Second Inspector. “It wasn’t easy studying so hard, not when those who came before you did the same and were only given a small sample of jobs, but I did it all the same. My parents wanted to work in the MWPSB, but they weren’t given the right aptitudes. I tell everyone that I chose this job because it was the only one that I felt was suited to me, but really, it was because I wanted to help my parents live the careers they wanted through me. To have a taste of that.”

Ginoza remains quiet, eyes still on the view, because he can sense Akane trembling beside him, tears threatening to surface once more.

“But they didn’t like my decision that much,” she continues, after she’s had a chance to regain control. “Resented me for that choice, I think. But I continued to study, because I felt that I could do some good through this work, even though the ones I looked up to most now look down on me.”

With the feeling of a familiar anger, Ginoza chooses to keep his mouth shut. Parents that went awry, that couldn’t see past their own problems to observe how such an obsession was damaging those they loved, fraying the family at the edges; it was an ache he knew very well, but not one to bring up now. Right now, it was Akane’s time to speak.

“I guess that’s why I get so boiled up when you look down on me, Mr Ginoza,” Akane continues, and from the sound in her voice, it seems like the hardest part of the conversation has been passed. “Because I do look up to you, as an Inspector. You’ve been in this job for a lot longer than me, and you managed to put up with Mr Kogami all those years. I really respect you for the cases you’ve solved-”

She’s interrupted, but not because Ginoza cut in, rather, because he couldn’t hold in the laughter any longer. Half-way between angry and dumbfounded, he finds that the only output he has left is to laugh, to laugh at this Inspector, kicked into the mud again and again only to come back and still forgive, to laugh at his deteriorating Psycho Pass, the obsession over the Makashima Case, the very path that his father took all those years ago, and to not care a single ounce. To laugh at the fact that, no matter what, Division One will never be divided from forces within, no matter how much Ginoza fears it. Having supressed all of these emotions for months and months, he finds that he can no longer keep the pressure and the tank has burst.

“Did I say something funny?” Akane’s frowning, because she thinks she’s being laughed at, but Ginoza waves off the concern, trying to stifle the giggles as best as he can.

“I promise it’s not aimed at you,” he says finally, able to get a little control. “It’s just, everything has come to a head at once, and yet again you’ve proved you're a capable Inspector, both on the field and on the team.”

_And probably better than I’ll ever be. You're the one I’ve been waiting to take the helm of Division One._

“I didn’t want it to sound like that,” she answers, and for the first time in their conversation, Ginoza can see that she really doesn’t know what they're talking about or where it’s going. But just talking is a catharsis all of its own, talking about something other than Makashima or murders or Kogami or the CID of the Sibyl System. To just talk like friends would, like a team would. After all, they’d spend more time together than anyone else in each other’s life, and this breath of fresh air is exactly what they needed, even if the words made no sense and covered no ground. Maybe, that was the point.

And when she looks at him, he offers the briefest of smiles, and this really is him letting down the walls. Even if it’s just for a mere glimpse. He looks back to the horizon, letting the mask settle once again, not because he wants to shut her out, but because it’s a habit and a comfort for him. “You know, we’re not so different; a disappointment to those who came before us.”

Akane glances at him, but she doesn’t push for an answer. She’s learnt with her First Inspector, that pushing for an answer gets her nowhere, and it’s better to let it come naturally. But she does push for one thing. “I just want to know what I can do, to let us get along better, Mr Ginoza.”

“You don’t have to be so willing to change.” He groans in reply. “This is on me too, Tsunemori. And you shouldn’t let the others off the hook so easily either, particularly the Enforcers when they misbehave. You can be harsher on others when you think they're at fault.”

“Alright then,” she answers, taking that as answer to her question. “And, in return, Mr Ginoza, you can trust in my capabilities a little more. I know I don’t comply with the rulebook as strictly as you, and I know that makes you nervous because you think that the top brass will blame that on you, but I can vow to you that I’d take responsibility for my own actions and never lay any of my faults on you.”

“Not sure the system works that way, though,” he grumbles in reply, but she just punches him in the arm and returns to the car. _Enough of your complaining_ , it seems to say.

Ginoza watches her return, and he can feel the shift; a more commanding attitude, in return for a little confidence in her abilities. Ginoza sees this as a sacrifice he can make. And he’s glad that they’ve turned the corner, and that relinquishing control every once in a while is all that he’ll need to do in order to get along with his second in command a little more.

But there’s another issue, an elephant in the back of the car, as he settles into the passenger’s seat beside her. “We still need to talk about Kogami.” He says, and from the tone of voice, Akane can hear the clinical, detached Ginoza return to the fold. It’s alright, though. She’ll need that version of him for their conversation about Kogami.

And she’s as blunt as Ginoza has ever heard her. “Mr Kogami is an Enforcer. He was your old partner, and given the fact that you go to him whenever there’s trouble, and get frustrated whenever he’s in trouble, I wager that he’s a friend too, even if you show animosity in the eyes of the scanners and the CID. And I care about him too. I know that isn’t wise, Mr Ginoza, but it can’t be helped. That’s really all there is to it right now.”

It’s a startlingly succinct display of the situation, and leaves more than one issue still begging to be addressed, but he figured the last part is right, and it really is all they need to address for the time being. When they catch Kogami, and they _will_ catch him alive, then they’ll address the rest. And, while he’s a latent criminal and once of society’s outcasts, this is all they can really say about him. All they can really feel about him. All they can really do for him, now that he’s walked the darker path.

And not even the Sibil System itself can change that.

“Yeah,” is what Ginoza answers, because there are no more words.

“We should be getting back,” Akane continues, bringing the engine to life, and it’s almost a shame to be returning to the city.

Ginoza figures he’d fare much better amongst the forests and the mountains. Despite the glasses, he’s always had excellent vision, just like his mother and his father, even in their later years. It’s an amusing thing really, being the one with the keenest sight, yet an inability to see what was right in front of him most of the time. And it seemed like this was the case more and more with each crime scene, with each argument, with each broken heart. At least, out in the mountains, the things that intend to kill him would be things he could see coming. In the city, at a crime scene, in the safe walls of the CID, in that nasty, nasty place, he couldn’t see the things that threaten to tear him down. Be that his Crime Coefficient, Division One, Chief Kasse’s manipulation, or a gun or a bomb or a wound or a criminal responsible for it all; he’d much rather the mountains where he can see his fate coming. Instead of the city, where he can sense it coming, like a clock ticking down until it explodes in his hands.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all,
> 
> Apologies for being away for a while. I've had exams, which are a sinkhole of time, but better than that, I've completed my second novel, and it is now published and available for all! If you like urban fantasy, outlawed magic and large cast full of beautiful, complicated relationships, or just my writing style, please check it out.
> 
> Links in bio, or send me a message for details.
> 
> Specific to this work, I wanted to flex my own imagination and start a series of conversations between Gino, Akane and the crew. I think the show is limited in runtime, and some of the more human moments were cut to make room for cases and the conflict between Kogami and Makashima (which I won't complain about!), but from my initial watch-through, I really did read Ginoza as one of the protagonists, rather than Kogami, and have never really been able to shake that. And there's a lot left unsaid regarding the character, which is a goldmine for us fic writers!
> 
> If you like, please let me know what sort of themes you'd like discussed through scenes like these. I'm open to ideas. Also, do you guys like these more gentle moments, or something a little more action-packed? I never know.
> 
> Stay safe everyone, see you in the next one.


End file.
